


August 24th

by raysinbran



Series: Hazelwood [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Creepy, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:55:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24318412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raysinbran/pseuds/raysinbran
Summary: Her name is Bridget Harris and she is twenty-four years old.She lives in Hazelwood, Oregon, where the trees stand tall and surround us all.Today is the twenty-fourth of August.
Series: Hazelwood [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1737673
Kudos: 1





	August 24th

**Author's Note:**

> gonna try to remember to post the other ones lmao

Today is the twenty-fourth of August. 

Bridget hurriedly scribbles down the date on a piece of paper, praying she won’t forget it  _ again _ . She keeps forgetting things lately; the date, where she lives, even her own name a few times. Not to mention she has been feeling sick most days, and always with a feeling of being watched. She quickly writes down a few other pieces of vital information, including a list of things to do for the day. She straightens up, folding the piece of paper in half and sticks it in her pocket as she stands up from her desk. 

Today is the twenty-fourth of August, and she has a haircut appointment to get to. 

Bridget is out the door in no less than ten minutes later, walking down the street when she runs into a certain someone. She crashes into a body unceremoniously and stumbles, dropping her purse - or well, it was really just a pocketbook. She looks up, eyes wide, mouth open already for an apology and-

Ah. She knew this man. 

Which, frankly, was unsurprising. Growing up in a small town meant you know just about everyone you come in contact with. And that’s how she knew Avaroe. She liked him just fine - he was a pretty quiet, though nice, guy - but something about him had made her uneasy for a long time. Bridget never knew exactly  _ what _ it was about him that made her so uncomfortable, especially since when they were much younger, kids in school together, she thought he was fine. 

But now? She feels nowadays that there is something  _ wrong  _ about him. 

Avaroe was frowning at her a little, staring at her with gaunt eyes. “Do you… want your purse back?” he says slowly. 

Bridget shakes herself out of her stupor, realizing Avaroe had picked up her purse and was holding it out. She quickly snatches it back, her face heating up with embarrassment. 

“Sorry, yeah, I’ve been spacing out a lot lately,” she blurts out. 

Avaroe just sort of tilts his head, still staring at her. She couldn’t meet his gaze. But, he soon shrugs and sticks his hands in his pockets, seeming unconcerned. 

“Be careful, then,” he replies, still speaking in that slow, quiet way of his that he has seemed to adopted over the past few years. “I’ll see you later, Bridget.”

“Yeah, see you later,” Bridget chokes out, still incredibly uneasy, and steps around him to continue on her way. 

She hates people like him around here. They’re normal, for so many years, but suddenly they’re different. Sometimes it happens slowly, and sometimes it happens very quickly. Sometimes the change is subtle, like with Avaroe; the guy is the same as he has always been, really, but something changed a few years ago but Bridget can’t figure out what. But for some people, she’s noticed, the change is drastic. Take her mother for instance. 

Her mother is a wonderful woman - or she used to be. She sits in her dark bedroom these days, alone with the door locked. There isn’t anyone to keep an eye on her besides Bridget, since her father passed away when she was young. But her mother used to be so vibrant, full of life. But two years ago, almost exactly, she started stowing away. Bridget tried to get her to come out, thinking maybe her mother was having a bout of depression. 

But lately, she’s suspected it’s something else. 

Her mother’s eyes seem different - darker, colder, redder. Her ears seem to have pointed tips, blackened at the ends. Her demeanor has changed too. She’s so aggressive, so angry all the time. 

Bridget doesn’t want to know what happened to her mother. She pushes those thoughts from her mind. Her head hurts too much. She moves on, keeps walking. 

But where is she walking to?

Bridget stops in her tracks. She can’t remember what she was supposed to do today. She quickly runs down all of the relevant information in her mind:

Her name is Bridget Harris and she is twenty-four years old. 

She lives in Hazelwood, Oregon, where the trees stand tall and surround us all. 

Today is…

_ Today is… _

Bridget wracks her head for the date. The date feels important, she knows she had something to do today specifically because of the date. She feels bile beginning to rise in her throat and tries to force it down. She stands still. Bridget  _ knows _ something about today had something she wanted to do but she can’t remember if she can’t remember the date. Her hands clench into a fist, nails slowly digging into her palm. She recalls the other information again, trying to trigger her memory. 

Her name is Bridget Harris.    


She is twenty-four years old. 

She lives in Hazelwood, Oregon, where the trees stand tall and surround us all. 

Today is…

Sweat slides down the side of her face. She still can’t remember. She  _ wants _ to remember. She needs to or else it will get worse. What day is it? What month is it? She can’t even remember what year it is. Hold on, how old is she? Her heart is pounding. She can’t remember anything now. The only piece of information she knows now is  _ I live in Hazelwood, Oregon. I don’t know who I am _ . 

The woman jumps when a hand is set on her shoulder suddenly. She whips around, seeing a familiar face. Avaroe. She thinks. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, voice low. His expression doesn’t often change often, but she likes to think there was a glimmer of concern in his eyes. They may not know each other  _ well _ , but they’ve been around each other since kids anyway. 

“I don’t-” she stammers, grasping for words. She looked around, realizing she may look a little disturbed. “... I don’t know.”   


Avaroe only stares, eventually replying, “... are you okay?”   


“I…. what is the date?” she stumbles over her words. She felt drunk, honestly - the world seemed to spin and her tongue felt too big in her mouth, causing a stammer. 

“August twenty-fourth.” He raises his eyebrows. He looked tired. 

Bridget breathes out a sigh of relief. Everything was coming back - including the sneaky piece of paper in her pocket she seems to have also forgotten about. She was going to a hair appointment. 

“Thanks…,” she mumbles, looking down. “Uh… where’re you going? I thought you were going somewhere in the opposite direction."

Avaroe coughed, a hand over his mouth. “I left my phone at home,” he says, just a touch embarrassed.    


Bridget lets out a laugh, looking up again. “Oh- okay. Uh. I’ll see you later, again.”   


Avaroe dips his head in response, and they continue on their ways. Though, Bridget crosses the street so they don’t have to walk awkwardly together. 

She lets out a sigh. She doesn’t feel sick any longer, but she’s starting to get a crawly feeling on her back. She knows she’s being watched. She stares straight ahead, silently repeating the vital information for today. 

Her name is Bridget Harris and she is twenty-four years old. 

She lives in Hazelwood, Oregon, where the trees stand tall and surround us all. 

Today is the twenty-fourth of August. 


End file.
